


Tradition

by Dazzlious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzlious/pseuds/Dazzlious
Summary: Hermione Granger has been abducted. But just what is it that the Malfoy family wants from her?





	Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from JK Rowling’s fantastic books or films, I’m just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so. 
> 
> A/N: I think you need to be a fairly special person to see an episode of Criminal Minds and immediately think that it could be adapted to make a Dramione romance. Yes, friends, I am that person. It is set at the beginning of the school holidays between sixth and seventh year. My thanks go to Mamacita, as always, for being the best beta in the world. I hope you enjoy. Happy Slytherin Pride Day! Dx

 

Hermione groaned and clutched her head as she tried to sit up. She was feeling lousy; a banging headache and the accompanying feeling of nausea was not helping in any way. She opened her eyes, grimaced at the flaring pain, then closed them again, moaning lowly, as another wave of nausea washed over her.

Sweet Merlin, she felt bad and she had no idea what had caused it.

As she fought to open her eyes once more, glad that the room was dark not full of bright light, an unnerving thought danced around her brain, frustratingly staying just out of reach. Something was wrong but she had no idea what. She forced her eyelids to open.

_Where the hell was she?_

Another wave of pain had her clutching her head again, her breath coming in short sharp gasps as she fought the nausea just a moment before panic took over. She had no idea where she was, but she wasn’t at home in her bedroom, which was where she was supposed to be.

With almost supernatural strength and a yowl of pain, Hermione launched herself up from the couch she was lying on and stared around her in confusion and terror. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing in this room; she had never even seen it before.

And she definitely had no idea how she had got here.

As the pain and nausea swelled within her once more, Hermione realised her mouth was dry too — bone dry — she urgently needed some water. Forcing herself to stay standing and her eyes to stay open she looked around in hopes of finding something to drink, or a way to get out. Maybe if she left the room she could work out where she was.

There was a door. It was well camouflaged; the expensive wallpaper that covered the walls followed through on the door, the wood panelling matching to the nth degree in an attempt to make the room seem completely inescapable. But there was a chink of light, a thin band of it running around the edge of the door, giving away its secret.

Hermione stumbled towards it, trying to ignore the pain that was suggesting she lie back down, even if only for a couple of minutes. She couldn’t give in, couldn’t surrender to the pain or she would be lost.

She knew there was at least one room beyond the door. She could hear the sound of voices, the clinking of glasses. It sounded as if a party was going on out there, but that made no sense.

Her hopes were suddenly dashed when she realised there was no door handle, at least not that she could find. She was trapped, the thirst raging within her, the thought of the drinks on the other side of the door making it worse.

Hermione groaned as another wave of pain washed over her. She leant forward and rested her head against the door both in an effort to ease the pain and to attempt to hear what was happening on the other side. But everything was too muffled and it hurt to concentrate so hard.

With a cry of frustration she pushed herself upright again, using both hands to bang on the door, again and again.

Surely someone in the other room would hear her, wouldn’t they?

But even as her hands became sore from the continuous pounding, Hermione knew no one was going to open the door. The room was a prison and was either silenced or the party was too loud for anyone to hear her knocking.

With a wail of despair she finally gave up. She moved back to the couch and dropped back onto it, her head in her hands as the tears began to fall.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘You’re awake at last.’

Hermione looked up. Her teary eyes gazed blearily towards the voice but saw nothing but bright light and a dark silhouette in the now open doorway. The noise of the party was louder, the voices a sharp buzz in her head causing the pain to spike furiously. She frowned. She knew that voice. Who the hell was it?

A moment later the person moved forward, and as he came fully into view Hermione recognised the pale blond hair of Draco Malfoy. He was studying her anxiously and was holding a glass of clear liquid. She licked her dry lips, still fighting the raging thirst as he held the glass out towards her.  

‘You probably need this,’ he said.

After a couple of seconds of staring at the glass, Hermione took it from him and suspiciously sniffed the contents.

‘It’s just water,’ Draco assured her. He moved back towards the open door, gazing through into the other room for a moment, then closed the door. The sound of the party was abruptly cut off.

Hermione gave a small whimper of despair as she realised she was trapped once again. She looked at the glass, uncertain whether she should drink although the thirst was almost unbearable now.

‘You should drink the water, Hermione,’ Draco said, his voice mild. He re-joined her and sat down next to her on the couch. ‘I’m sure you’re thirsty and you’ve probably got a headache, haven’t you?’

Hermione gazed at him balefully for a moment.

‘Where am I?’ She was shocked at how raw her voice sounded.

Draco smiled. ‘You need to drink. Please. I promise it’s nothing but plain water.’

Hermione lifted the glass, the water soothing her parched lips as she drank a little. Once she realised Draco was telling the truth she drank more, soon emptying the glass.

‘How are you feeling?’ Draco asked.

‘Bloody awful,’ Hermione replied coldly. ‘Did you do this to me? Where the hell am I?’

‘You’re suffering the after-effects of Stupefication, I’m afraid, but it’ll wear off soon. As to where you are, you’re at Malfoy Manor.’

‘What am I doing here? I was at home,’ Hermione said. She stared at Draco, horror rising within her as she grasped the reality of what her being at Malfoy Manor probably meant. ‘My parents—’

‘Are at home and are perfectly safe,’ Draco assured her. ‘I managed to get you out without them realising anything was wrong.’

‘But if they’ve discovered I’m missing they’ll be sick with worry. And why did you bring me here anyway? I don’t understand.’ The pitch in Hermione’s voice rose with her corresponding sense of panic.

‘Everything is going to be fine,’ Draco insisted soothingly. ‘You just need to get through the ceremony and then we can go and explain everything to your parents.’

‘Explain what? And what ceremony are you talking about? You’re making no sense.’ Hermione stared at him unhappily. ‘I want to go home.’

Draco smiled again. ‘You are home, Hermione. At least you will be once the ceremony is completed.’

‘You’re still making no sense. I need to go home . . . need to go back to my parents.’

‘I promise I’ll take you to see them tomorrow,’ Draco said. ‘But now you have to get ready. We haven’t got much time. Do you need a pain reliever for your headache?’

Hermione shook her head.

Draco stood up. ‘I’m going to go and get my mother. She’ll help you to get ready.’

‘Get ready for what? Draco, please, just tell me what the hell you’re talking about.’

Draco smiled at her indulgently. ‘For the handfasting ceremony. You’re going to be my wife, Hermione.’

Hermione stared at him in shock, then rubbed her eyes and shook her head, trying to take in what Draco had just said. She stared at him again.

‘Your wife. You’re joking, right?’

‘Why would I joke about something like that?’ Draco sounded confused.

Hermione shook her head again, still unable to comprehend what was happening.

‘You can’t be serious. It’s just not possible. Look, I don’t know what prank you’re trying to play but you can stop right now because it’s not funny. I just want to go home.’

‘I told you, you are home. And we will be getting married as soon as you’re ready.’

‘No, we won’t. I have no intention of marrying you. Anyway, have you forgotten that I’m Muggle-born? Even if you really did want to marry me, which I don’t believe for one minute, I don’t think your father will be too happy about me contaminating your perfect pure-blood line.’

‘It’s not perfect,’ Draco mumbled quietly. Then he added, ‘It’s an old line but it’s not completely pure-blood.’

‘What, so you’ve been lying all this time, making out you’re something special when you’re no better than anyone else? Typical bloody Malfoy.’ Hermione sounded disgusted.

‘That’s not what I meant. The Malfoy line goes back to before the Normans came over, but over the centuries there have been one or two non-pure-bloods that were married into the family in order to make the line stronger. That’s always been the Malfoy creed. Power and money are more important than blood.’

‘You’ve changed your tune. For the last six years all I’ve ever heard from you is how inferior I am; how I shouldn’t even be allowed to be part of the wizarding world. Yet now it’s suddenly not important any longer. You’re pathetic . . . you and your stupid family.’

‘You’re about to become part of that family,’ Draco reminded her.

‘No, I’m not.’ Hermione was adamant.

Draco sighed. ‘You don’t have any choice.’ He walked towards the door, pulling his wand from his pocket. He waved it and the door opened once more. ‘My mother will join you shortly.’

Hermione sat and watched him go in stunned silence as once again the pain shot through her head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘Please stop crying, Hermione. It really isn’t that bad. I promise you’re going to be fine, and tomorrow I’ll take you to see your parents. But now we really need to complete the ceremony and go back to the party.’

Hermione, who was feeling even more disorientated than when she had first found herself trapped at Malfoy Manor, was lachrymose again; a state she had been in since Draco had released her from the spell Narcissa Malfoy had cast on her.

Still trying to process what had happened to her, particularly in the last hour, she sniffed as she rubbed her sore, wet eyes in an effort to stop the tears while her other hand rubbed her nose to get rid of the snot that threatened to drip.

Draco, who had been standing in the doorway to what Hermione now knew was a bedroom, sighed quietly and walked towards her. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. Still intent on wiping away the tears, Hermione didn’t notice.

‘Here’s a handkerchief.’ Draco shook the white linen square in front of Hermione’s face. It probably wasn’t going to do much good with the quantity of tears she had shed, but at least she wasn’t ugly-crying any longer; she was finally calming down.

Hermione peered at him through teary eyes, sniffed again, then reached out to take the handkerchief. She blew her nose loudly, then used a clean corner of it to dab ineffectually at the tears that were still trickling down her cheeks.

‘It’s almost over,’ Draco assured her. ‘Just the consummation and it’s done.’

Hermione’s mouth wobbled and she looked as if a fresh wave of crying was about to happen, but instead it turned downwards as she gazed unhappily at Draco.

‘I don’t want to—’ She shook her head, then tried again. ‘We’re not married, Draco, so I have no intention of consummating anything with you.’

Draco smiled. ‘Of course we’re married, Hermione. We just went through the ceremony and you’re wearing one of the rings we exchanged, the same as I am. He lifted his hand to show the wedding ring on his finger. After a moment he reached out a hand to take hold of her arm. ‘Come on, let’s get this over and done with, then we can go and enjoy the party. There’s even a beautiful new robe in there for you to wear.’ He looked towards the bedroom door for a moment.

Hermione shrugged his hand away, still looking unhappy.

‘We are not married,’ she said stonily. ‘I don’t know or care what that ceremony was that you forced me to take part in but it can’t be legal. You need to release me and let me go home.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you that you’re already home?’ Draco replied softly, his tone slightly exasperated as if explaining to a child. ‘The ceremony was a handfasting ritual and it bound you and me together as husband and wife. It is the proper, traditional way for the joining of wizarding folk in matrimony and is every bit as legally binding as one of your Muggle wedding services. Now we consummate the marriage, to formalise the binding and celebrate the fruitfulness of our union.’

‘The fruitfulness . . . you mean having children? I’ve got no intention of getting pregnant at any point in the near future. I’m too young . . .  we’re still at school, for Merlin’s sake.’

A soft chuckle escaped Draco’s lips. ‘I wasn’t intending to impregnate you tonight, although in the old days that would have been the general idea. Children can come after we’ve left school, once everything’s a bit more settled.’ He reached out and stroked Hermione’s cheek, wiping away the tears he found there. ‘Tonight is just a celebration of our marriage . . . and of my love for you.’

Hermione backed away from his hand, shaking her head in denial of what he was saying. She ran her hand through her hair, unconsciously smoothing it down, still trying to get her head round what had happened.

‘Okay, so maybe that handfasting or whatever it was is a proper wizarding _thing_. But I never agreed to it . . . at no point did I say I agreed, so it can’t be binding, whatever you say.’

‘You didn’t have to say anything,’ Draco said cheerfully. ‘That’s the great thing about handfasting – it’s all symbolic. We stand up together, which signifies our desire to be joined. We exchange rings and the cord is placed around our wrists and then the words are spoken to us. They bind us together without either of us having to do anything . . . except consummate it afterwards, of course.’ He winked. ‘And that’s the good bit.’

‘But that can’t be right,’ Hermione shot back. ‘Your mother put a Body-Bind Curse on me so I was stuck there, unable to move. That doesn’t mean I wanted it to happen.’

‘She only did that because you were being difficult,’ Draco pointed out. ‘She had to get you ready for the ceremony. I told you we were on a tight timetable. You’ve been uncooperative throughout the whole process.’

‘Because I didn’t want this stupid—’ Hermione broke off, clutching her head as if in pain again, unable to properly express herself because of her anger and frustration and feeling the urge to scream.

This couldn’t really be happening to her. She had to be dreaming. Hermione pinched her arm hard, trying to wake herself up.

Nothing happened.

Draco watched her. He looked amused. ‘What are you doing?’

Hermione was still pinching her arm, the skin turning redder with every attempt.

‘I’m trying to wake myself up. I must be in the middle of a nightmare because this just can’t be real.’

Draco gave another soft chuckle, shaking his head, then caught hold of Hermione’s hand to stop her from pinching herself again.

‘It is real, and you really are my wife, Hermione. And now it’s time for us to go to bed, even if only briefly. Of course, we don’t have to stay long at the party afterwards if you don’t want to.’ He winked lasciviously, then moved backwards, pulling Hermione up from the couch. ‘I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘I just don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be married to you, Draco.’

Draco frowned. ‘Why not? I’m handsome and rich and I can offer you a far better lifestyle than either of those gormless prats you hang around with. You’ll want for nothing. And I promise to love and protect you, whatever happens in the future.’

Hermione pulled away from him, and before he could stop her she sat down again.

‘Do you know what sort of a future you and your family have condemned me to if You-Know-Who wins? Hermione asked bitterly. ‘I’m Muggle-born, remember. I don’t think being married to you is going to change that, or what will happen to me. Anyway, why would you do this when you’ve always hated me? I just don’t understand.’

‘The family will protect both you and your parents, have no fear of that, Hermione,’ Draco said quietly. ‘And I haven’t always hated you — quite the opposite, in fact. But as a Slytherin from a family of Death Eaters I was expected to act a certain way at school, so I had no choice but to be mean to you. I never meant any of it. How could I when you’re at least as strong magically as me, if not more so?’

Hermione snorted in disbelief but didn’t say anything further, just shook her head.

Draco studied Hermione for a moment, realising she wasn’t going to go with him to the bedroom without a fight. She definitely hadn’t yet accepted that they were married, and it didn’t sound like she was going to anytime soon, which was a huge problem as he was running out of time.

He could pick Hermione up and carry her into the bedroom against her will, in which case another Body-Bind Curse would be useful as it would stop her from fighting him. But then that wouldn’t be much use for the consummation and he didn’t even want to think about her reaction once he released her.

Anyway, Draco didn’t want to force Hermione, didn’t want to take her without her consent. The consummation had to be done of her own free will; him hexing and manhandling her in the lead-up to it definitely wasn’t going to improve their relationship any. His best bet was to give her an explanation if he wanted to move things along without the situation turning bad.

Draco glanced at his watch. If he was going to explain it would need to be without delay. So far he had managed to circumvent tradition in order to make things less horrifying for Hermione, but it wasn’t going to last. If they didn’t return to the party within the next hour and a quarter with confirmation of the consummation, his parents would take things into their own hands and then it would get nasty; no consideration of Hermione’s consent then.

He knelt down in front of Hermione, causing her to look at him. His eyes captured hers, holding them, wanting her to see he was being sincere.

‘I’m going to go and get us a drink and then I’m going to explain everything to you properly,’ Draco said quietly. ‘But in return, you need to agree to go into the bedroom and wait for me there.’ Hermione opened her mouth, looking indignant, but before she could speak Draco added, ‘I’m not going to do anything to you, not unless you agree, but as I said before we really are running out of time. I’m sure that once I’ve explained it you’ll agree to the consummation, so I want us to be ready. Please, Hermione. Whatever you might think, I really am trying to help you here.’

‘Helping me would be letting me go home to my parents,’ Hermione retorted.

‘That’s not going to happen. You are home, whether you like it or not,’ Draco said. ‘Now, please, go and wait in the bedroom for me. I’ll be back shortly.’

He stood up and made his way to the door. Hermione watched him go, scowling angrily at his retreating back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione wasn’t sure why she finally gave in and moved to the bedroom, except that Draco had promised her an explanation and she suspected that with his insistence that time was running out it wouldn’t be forthcoming if she stayed where she was.

He had also promised not to do anything to her without her consent and she had to trust that he was telling the truth about that. Then again, he seemed convinced that she would eventually give in to his demands, would consummate this marriage which he seemed as delighted about as she was horrified. She had no idea how he could be so confident when she had no intention of remaining married to him.

She sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing down the plain white robe Narcissa had dressed her in before the handfasting ceremony. She still couldn’t believe the woman had hexed her. Still conscious but completely unable to move, Hermione hadn’t been able to do anything to stop the older woman as she changed Hermione’s clothes, wrestled with her unruly hair, and put makeup on her face.

Draco’s father, Lucius, had appeared once she was finished, smiling every bit as much as the rest of his family, which was particularly freaky when Hermione knew how much he detested her for being Muggle-born. He had picked Hermione up and carried her out of the room, still under the curse that kept her frozen, and deposited her next to Draco, where she was propped up until it came to the part of the ceremony where the rings were exchanged.

The hex had been lifted only to be immediately replaced by another that left her every bit as unable to move as before but allowed the Malfoys to move her as if she was a doll. A single tear had escaped her eye in the moment before the second spell hit her, trailing unchecked down her cheek as Hermione watched, unable to do anything as the ring was put on her finger and the binding cord was wrapped around her wrist, joining her to Draco, apparently for the rest of eternity.

There were other people in the room — Hermione wasn’t able to see any of them, petrified as she was — but none of them was willing to help her. It must have been clear to everyone that she wasn’t a willing participant in the ceremony but not one person had the decency to question what was going on.

Once the ceremony was over Draco had released her from the spell and tears erupted from her like a flood. He took her hand and pulled her back into the room in which she had been kept a prisoner, then opened a door to another room she hadn’t even realised existed until that moment.

Hermione looked around the bedroom. It was elegantly decorated, as each of the rooms she had so far seen in Malfoy Manor appeared to be. The colour scheme of the room was blue and was actually remarkably soothing. She wondered whether it had been chosen for that reason — designed to lower her guard and make Draco’s seduction of her that much easier.

There was a window in the room, but although the plush velvet curtains hadn’t been drawn Hermione couldn’t see anything because it was dark outside and there were no lights to illuminate the exterior. In her current frame of mind it resembled a gaping void that was keeping her trapped in this hateful place.

How long had she been here?

She had gone to bed just after the ten o’clock news had finished. She had taken a few minutes to catch up with what was happening, scanning the news stories for any sign that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were wreaking havoc in the Muggle world just as they were beginning to do in the wizarding one.

Hermione had no idea what time she had been taken — was it still the same night or had another day passed since she had been brought here? Were her parents still unaware that she was gone or were they tearing their hair out trying to find her? She wanted desperately to see them but she was stuck here with Draco and his family until he decided to release her.

She started in surprise. Hermione had just realised that Lucius Malfoy was here – free and walking around his home as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But he was supposed to be in Azkaban; had been locked up in the terrible prison in the North Sea a year ago when he was caught along with his Death Eater colleagues after their battle with Hermione and her friends at the Ministry of Magic.

They had lured Harry with false visions in order to get him to take the prophecy about him and Voldemort that was held there and had been caught in the act and sent to prison. One had escaped, the mad witch Bellatrix Lestrange — Draco’s aunt and now, apparently, her aunt-in-law, Hermione thought miserably — and Bellatrix had killed Harry’s godfather, her cousin, Sirius.

Hermione, who had been injured during the battle, had missed the death but still hated the evil witch for what she had done, both to Sirius and to Harry. She was certain the feeling was mutual. How was Bellatrix going to react to Draco’s marriage? She was close to Voldemort and would surely take the opportunity to get rid of Hermione by telling him about her, which made Draco’s decision to marry her and his parents’ seeming agreement stranger than ever.

But this was why the situation was so nightmarish. No wonder she had believed she was in a dream. In what world did the Malfoys think it was okay to abduct her and force her into marriage with their son? Presumably, the same strange parallel universe in which they had suddenly lost their hatred for Muggle-borns. She still couldn’t fathom how any of these things could be happening in the world in which she lived.

Continuing with her perusal of the room, Hermione’s eyes alighted on a beautiful robe, a sumptuous concoction in blue and old gold with intricate embroidery covering every inch of the exquisite garment. This must be the dress Draco had mentioned earlier, that he wanted her to wear to the party after they had—

It was a shame. It was such a beautiful robe and she would dearly love to try it on, but she wasn’t willing to accept the terms that came with it.

Where had Draco got to, anyway? Surely, if time was as critical as he kept insisting, he would have returned by now, wouldn’t he? She went to look at her watch before she remembered she wasn’t wearing it. She had taken it off before she went to bed.

Hermione looked away from the robe and towards the door, tensely awaiting Draco’s return.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco tried to be inconspicuous as he re-entered the party in search of a drink. He hoped that a little alcohol might relax Hermione a bit and make her more amenable to what he had to tell her, but he didn’t want her getting drunk. She had to agree to consummate the marriage and alcohol couldn’t play a part in that. He didn’t want there to be any room for doubt later.

‘Are you out already? That was quick. If that cute little thing was my wife I’d be banging away all night.’

Draco’s heart sank as he felt a meaty arm go round his shoulder and saw the leering face of Crabbe’s father.

He shook his head, fighting to erase the disgust from his expression. ‘No, I’ve just come to get some wine. Hermione’s pretty stressed out still and I’m hoping it’ll calm her down a bit.’

Crabbe Senior guffawed, ‘You should have just followed the tradition, Draco. It would all be over and done with by now.’

‘And my wife would be a gibbering wreck who never wanted to talk to me again,’ Draco pointed out.

‘You’re too soft, lad. She’s your wife, she has to do what you tell her. Stop mollycoddling her and just get on with fucking her.’

‘It doesn’t work like that, not these days, and certainly not with Hermione,’ Draco told him. He moved, sliding the man’s arm from his shoulder, and picked up a wine bottle from a group on the table, not bothering to check which one it was. He grabbed two glasses, waved them in a gesture of farewell towards the older man, then hurried back to the sitting room.

Draco really hoped Hermione would listen to him otherwise it was going to be a nightmare, and not just for her. He discovered she had, at least, taken on board what he had said about moving to the bedroom. That was a start.

He walked across the room towards the bedroom door, his stomach swirling with anxiety. He already knew Hermione wasn’t going to be very happy with him, but there was nothing he could do about that. This path had been set before he had even met her and there was nothing he could do to change it. All he could do was try to make it more bearable for her. So far he had succeeded, but if she didn’t consummate the marriage in the next hour then everything he had done for her would be for naught.

Draco smiled when he saw Hermione sitting on the bed. She was staring at the door, clearly waiting for him to return. He waved the bottle.

‘I’ve got us some wine. Not sure what it is, but knowing my father it will be pretty good.’

He gave Hermione one of the glasses and filled it with wine. He followed suit with his own glass, then put the bottle on the floor by the side of the bed and sat down next to Hermione.

Draco raised his glass in a toast. ‘Cheers!’

Hermione stared at him but didn’t respond.

He took a sip of the wine, then nodded. ‘It’s good. You should try it.’

‘You said you were going to tell me what’s going on,’ Hermione said. She still hadn’t touched her wine.

‘You’re right.’ Draco stared down at his watch. ‘I’ve got about fifteen minutes if we want to do this thing properly.’ He looked back at her. ‘Try the wine, Hermione. It’s nice, honestly.’

‘Just talk.’ Hermione’s tone was sharp, but for some reason she couldn’t quite comprehend she felt a bit guilty talking to Draco in that way. She took a sip of the wine to distract herself. He was right, it was very good.

‘We were married tonight because I chose you on the first day of school,’ Draco admitted.

Hermione stared at him in astonishment, not entirely sure how to react to this news.

Not waiting for a response, he continued, ‘I need to explain about my family so you understand why this was such an important decision.’ He stopped and took another sip of his wine.

‘I told you earlier that the Malfoys have always lived by a specific code — we do everything we can to gain power and wealth. This governs all areas of our lives but particularly who we marry. Every wife who has ever joined the Malfoy line has always been extraordinarily powerful in some way . . . or disgustingly wealthy, and sometimes both those things.

‘Prior to the Statute of Secrecy coming into force we Malfoys were as happy as anyone to take Muggle-born and even Muggle wives if they added to the collective wealth, but once the Act was passed we soon saw that continuing those sorts of alliances now hindered rather than helped our cause. We turned inwards, choosing only pure-bloods; those who understood how we operated, who knew what was expected of them.

‘Marriage starts young in my family, just as it does in a lot of old pure-blood families. Usually the son chooses his future wife by the age of nine and they have a couple of years to get to know each other before becoming formally betrothed at eleven. By the time they start at Hogwarts they already know who they’re going to marry and their parents have probably even worked out the details of the wedding. Certainly any dowry has been agreed by then.’

Hermione frowned. ‘But I didn’t meet you until we started school.’

‘No. But I had been waiting for you for a long time. I knew you would turn up sooner or later.’

‘But if this is an old family tradition weren’t you already betrothed by the time we started at Hogwarts?’ Hermione asked.

Draco gave a soft laugh and took another sip of his wine. ‘I broke tradition. My parents weren’t particularly happy about it at the time, but fortunately they were more progressive than my grandparents and let me run with it when I begged them to let me wait because I was sure the perfect girl was going to come along eventually. I had been to all the birthday parties, met all the eligible pure-blood girls, and I didn’t like any of them.’

‘That might have been because you were nine years old,’ Hermione pointed out wryly. ‘All boys hate girls at that age and vice versa.’

Draco shook his head. ‘No. I didn’t dislike them, I just didn’t feel an affinity with any of them, and I always knew I would with the girl I was meant to marry. That’s why I knew it was you as soon as I saw you at Kings Cross Station on our first day at school.

‘I pointed you out to my father straight away. He was relieved that I’d finally found you and my mother was so happy she actually cried. I knew they were already thinking about how to approach your parents about a betrothal because they wanted to get back on track. But then you turned out to be Muggle-born and that made everything so much more difficult because it meant I couldn’t get to know you in the way I wanted to — as I said, I have a lot to live up to thanks to my family name.

‘Instead, I had to become your adversary, had to go up against you. That’s why I was always arguing with you. It was the only way I could get to spend any time with you outside of lessons. And all the time I could see your power increasing. Your magic was every bit as strong as I had always known it would be. You were completely perfect for me.’

‘It’s a shame you didn’t give me a hint, then,’ Hermione said, sounding sceptical. ‘Do you really expect me to believe this crap?’

Draco looked surprised. ‘But it’s true. You can ask my parents . . . although not until after we’ve consummated the marriage, obviously.’

‘Hah, of course. I’m sure they’ll agree with your story as you all seem to be completed deluded. But the problem is, Draco, I remember the truth. I know how much you hate me and I remember how much your father has always despised me too.’

‘Not true.’ Draco was shaking his head now. ‘I told you, I had to pretend, but I’ve never hated you, Hermione. And everything my father has ever done has been to push you, to test your magical limits, to spur you on to greater achievements. You manage it magnificently every single time. You’re amazing and I am completely and utterly in love with you.’

Hermione suddenly felt uncomfortable under Draco’s intense gaze. She took a large mouthful of her wine as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her. Could it be true? Surely not, but even if it was it didn’t explain why he had suddenly abducted her, or the forced marriage ceremony.

‘Okay, so say I’m willing to suspend disbelief for a moment. I don’t understand why you couldn’t just approach me about it, even in secret. Why did you have to abduct me from my home?’

‘Would you have talked to me if I’d asked you to come and meet me alone?’ Draco asked. Hermione looked at him for a moment, knowing she wouldn’t have done. There was no way she would have trusted him enough for that. She shook her head. ‘No, of course you wouldn’t,’ Draco said, answering his own question, ‘so how was I ever supposed to tell you?’

‘You could have written to me or something,’ Hermione said. ‘You could have at least tried to tell me.’

Draco shook his head. ‘And you wouldn’t have believed that any more than you do now. Because let’s face it, you _don’t_ believe me, do you?’

‘Are you surprised?’ Hermione asked, sounding bitter. ‘For six years I’ve had you telling me how worthless I am and I’ve had your father treating me like dirt; even your mother looked down her nose at me when I saw her at the Quidditch World Cup. Now, suddenly you’re telling me that really you’re in love with me and your parents are ecstatic that you want me to be your wife. How am I supposed to believe something like that?’

‘Surely you can see that’s true. Do you think they would have acted the way they have tonight if they didn’t want you as a daughter-in-law?’ Draco asked.

‘Your mother hexed me!’

‘She restrained you so she could get you ready for the ceremony. She wasn’t being vindictive.’

‘You and I clearly have very different ideas of what being vindictive means,’ Hermione huffed.

‘We’re wasting time arguing about this. We need to get on with consummating the union, otherwise we’re going to run out of time,’ Draco said. He glanced anxiously at his watch again.

‘So what happens if we don’t meet this timeline of yours?’ Hermione asked.

Draco sighed. ‘This is another part of the tradition that I didn’t want you to have to go through. I managed to get agreement for a certain amount of time to convince you to consummate of your own free will. But that time is fast running out and if we haven’t done it by then my parents will insist on reverting to tradition, and believe me, you’re not going to want that.’

His tone of voice made Hermione shiver, but she had to know. ‘What will happen, then?’

Draco ran his hand through his hair as he began to pace the room.

‘You have to remember that these traditions date back to the Middle Ages, probably even further back than that. It was a completely different time and things were done . . . well, they were more direct. The thing is, they worked for the wizards at the time, and being such traditionalists the old families have never felt the need to change because it still works.

‘Of course, it’s easy enough when you’re talking about another pure-blood. They know the traditions and what’s expected of them and they’ve been brought up to understand that it’s their duty; a sort of rite of passage to becoming part of a strong, well-regarded family — that’s what the long betrothal is all about, the chance to learn to be part of the new family, to get to trust them.

‘In the past, if the girl wasn’t pure-blood she would be taken as soon as she was chosen and her parents were killed to ensure they couldn’t try to take her back. The betrothal ceremony would be performed and she would live with the family of her husband-to-be, growing up with him, so by the time the handfasting came along when they both reached seventeen she was as ready for it as the rest of the family were.’

Hermione stared at him, her heart suddenly beating double time and a sick feeling rose in her stomach as she thought of her own parents, who Draco kept refusing to let her see until tomorrow. Had he killed them during the abduction and just wasn’t telling her because he was trying to keep her compliant?

‘My parents—’

‘I told you, Hermione, they are perfectly well in their home and probably still fast asleep, not yet even realising you’re not there,’ Draco assured her. ‘That was yet another part of the tradition I circumvented for you. We could have taken you at any time during the last six years but it wasn’t a realistic proposition, especially when we were trying to bring your magic on so you needed to stay at school.

‘There was no point in me killing them now. I want you to be happy being my wife, not detest me for murdering your family. They’re under the Malfoy family protection now so no one will ever harm them, and I promise you that we will do anything we have to in order to keep them safe, whatever happens in the future.’

Hermione sagged a little as a wave of relief flooded through her. This was all bombarding her still-aching brain too fast for her to really understand it properly but at least, regardless of whatever happened between her and Draco, her parents were going to be safe.

‘But why take me now?’

‘The handfasting ceremony is supposed to take place as soon as possible after both partners turn seventeen. My birthday was in May but we were still in school then,’ Draco explained.

Hermione gave a snort of derision. ‘It was lucky for you that I didn’t go straight to the Burrow with Ron and Harry then . . . although not so lucky for me, obviously.’

Draco shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t have mattered. We would still have come for you — but we wouldn’t have been as forgiving about leaving anyone else alive as they’re not your family.’

Hermione stared at him as she imagined glumly how devastating it could have been if she hadn’t decided to go home to spend some time with her parents before leaving to help Harry with his quest. Her decision might have made the difference between Harry being able to find and destroy Voldemort’s Horcruxes and, hopefully, eventually the wizard himself, and the possibility that he and some of the Weasley family would now be dead and Voldemort would continue unopposed with his persecution of Muggles and Muggle-borns. She blinked to stop the tears that sprang unbidden to her eyes.    

‘As I just said, as close as possible to both partners turning seventeen the handfasting ceremony is held. Part of that ceremony is the consummation and possible impregnation of the new wife, and is presided over by the family to ensure it takes place,’ Draco continued hurriedly, attempting to draw Hermione away from her thoughts about her parents and the Weasleys. He wasn’t looking forward to admitting this part of the tradition, but it had to be said so she knew exactly what she was up against if she continued to refuse him.

‘When you say presided over, do you mean they watch?’ Hermione stared at Draco in horror.

‘Not so much watch, more like join in,’ Draco admitted awkwardly. ‘The parents hold the girl down while her husband—’

‘You have got to be joking. That’s barbaric!’

Draco shrugged. ‘I told you it was an old custom. Apparently, that sort of thing was very popular back in the Middle Ages; a sort of precursor to bondage, you could say. Anyway, hopefully you can see now why I wanted us to consummate the marriage in the time we’ve been given for doing it alone. I really am doing everything I can to make this process bearable for you, Hermione.’

Hermione bit back the retort that she didn’t want to be married to Draco and shouldn’t have been forced into it in the first place. There was no point in giving voice to the thought again because it would make no difference.

If what he was saying was true, and she had no reason to suspect he was lying considering what had happened to her so far, she was lucky they hadn’t abducted her earlier and luckier still that her parents and friends had been left alive. If there really was no way out of this predicament then it was better that she submit to Draco now rather than have to undergo the torture and embarrassment of being forced into it.

Hermione thought of the beautiful, willow-thin blonde woman who had so carefully dressed her in readiness for the ceremony, remembering the soothing words she had spoken, words Hermione had completely forgotten about until now because of her panic and anger, and she felt a sudden, surprising wave of sympathy for Narcissa Malfoy. Draco had said his grandparents weren’t as open-minded as his parents, which meant Narcissa must have endured the same ceremony but without the opportunity for privacy.

‘Did your mother—?’ she began.

Draco, whose expression hardened a little at the question, cut her off.

‘My mother is pure-blood and did her duty,’ he said quietly.

Hermione nodded her understanding, still thinking about the consummation and trying to gird herself for the reality of it. But now she was thinking about it, there was something she didn’t understand.

‘If the whole point of their . . . involvement is to get proof that the consummation took place, how are they going to know whether we did it or not? Are they going to watch? Is there some sort of peephole or something so they can’t be seen?’

‘There may well be peepholes around the manor,’ Draco said dismissively, ‘but not in this room, and no one is going to watch us, Hermione. I promise we’ll be completely alone.’

‘So, what, they’re just going to take our word for it? In that case we don’t have to do anything now — we could just say we did. If we both say it happened—’

Draco cut her off again. ‘There has to be proof. Anyway, you’re my wife and I want to consummate the marriage with you now. I don’t want to wait.’

‘So how do you intend to provide proof?’ Hermione asked, once again pushing back the retort about not wanting to be married to him.

Draco pointed at her. ‘You’re a virgin, aren’t you?’

Hermione frowned for a moment, then understood. ‘The blood.’

Draco nodded. ‘It’ll go on the robe you’re wearing, the proof that we’ve done it. You can change into the new robe and I can give that one to my parents. Now do you understand why I said you would choose to do it, rather than be forced into it?’

‘But I still don’t _want_ to do it,’ Hermione said. ‘I don’t even know you, apart from as an annoying enemy who I’ve never got on with. That isn’t a good basis for a marriage.’

‘We’re intellectually and magically compatible. That’s a good place to start from. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but I already know I’m in love with you and I’m hopeful that once you get to know the real me, you’ll come to love me too. I’m really not that bad, Hermione.’ He grinned hopefully.

Draco took Hermione’s wine glass and placed both of them on the floor next to the wine bottle. Then he turned back to her again and wrapped his arms around her, trying not to notice how she stiffened at his touch.

‘I really am in love with you,’ he reaffirmed, and he leant in to kiss her.

At first Hermione tried to resist, but then she relaxed a little and allowed the kiss to happen. She knew she was capitulating but also knew she had no choice. Whether she wanted it or not she was now married to Draco, for better or for worse — there was obviously going to be no chance of annulling it — so she had no choice but to make the best of it. And that meant consummating the marriage before she was forced into it by Draco’s parents.

She knew they wouldn’t hesitate to do it, either. After all, they had aided Draco in his abduction of her and then hexed her to ensure her participation in the handfasting ceremony, so it was clear there wasn’t anything they would consider off-limits in the quest to ensure their son married his ideal woman.

But she was still having trouble accepting that that woman was her. And Merlin only knew what Harry and Ron were going to say when they found out. She pushed the thought of her best friends out of her mind for the time being. She had enough to deal with for the moment without worrying about them too.

‘All right, let’s do this,’ Hermione said, resigned, once the kiss was over.

Draco gave her his brightest smile yet. ‘You’re not going to regret this.’

She sighed. ‘I already do, but I understand that I don’t have any choice so there’s no point in arguing about it any longer.’

Draco pulled her down onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her again.

‘I really do love you, Hermione, and in time I will prove it to you.’

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione had put on the beautiful blue and gold robe and Draco was helping to fasten it, his fingers trailing gently over her soft skin as he laced the back of the bodice. He kissed her neck.

‘That robe looks amazing on you,’ he said with a fond smile once he had finished. His arms slid around her waist as the two of them studied her reflection in the mirror.

‘It is a beautiful dress,’ Hermione admitted.

‘Even better because of the beautiful woman wearing it.’ Draco paused, then asked a touch anxiously, ‘Are you okay?’

Hermione looked at him in the mirror for a moment, then nodded.

‘I really am in love with you, you know.’

She gave him a wan smile. ‘I think I’m beginning to realise that.’

‘We need to go and show our faces at the party. If nothing else, I need to give my parents the other robe,’ Draco said. He kissed her neck again then released her and walked over to the bed to collect the white robe.

Hermione gazed in the mirror, trying to see if she could detect any change in herself after what she and Draco had just done. There was nothing physical except for the pink flush that stained her skin, but there was a dull ache. It was bearable, though, and at least her headache had finally disappeared.

Still looking in the mirror, she watched Draco as he picked up the robe and folded it carefully, the crimson stain livid on the soft white satin. For a moment she felt embarrassed that everyone at the party would get to see it but then she remembered that it could have been so much worse.

At least Draco had been gentle with her. His kindness and consideration had surprised Hermione, who had only ever known him as a troublemaking Slytherin who spent most of his time fighting with her and her friends. Discovering this far gentler and even loving side had gone a long way towards calming her in the minutes before he had taken her to bed.

In the aftermath of the admittedly pleasurable lovemaking she would have been happy to stay there until morning, lying in his arms as he whispered sweet nothings to her. But the ceremony wasn’t over until the proof had been presented to Draco’s parents and they had all shared a goblet of wine in front of the whole assembly, so they had no choice but to get up and get dressed again.

The blue robe really was spectacular, though, and like nothing she would ever have got to wear if she hadn’t become associated with an old pure-blood wizarding family. Hermione didn’t even want to consider how much it must have cost and she was more flattered than she wanted to admit that they had bought it specially for her.

She had no idea what was going to happen in the future. That was something she was going to need to discuss with Draco because she still wanted to help Harry in his quest to find the Horcruxes, sensing her presence might be vital in keeping him and Ron going when things got tough, as they were sure to do in the days ahead. But she also suspected Draco wasn’t going to be happy about letting her leave.

From the way he had acted, from turning away from the less savoury aspects of the marriage tradition to the loving and tender way he had treated her in bed, Hermione was beginning to believe his insistence that he was in love with her was true. If that was the case, Draco wasn’t going to want her traipsing off to Merlin only knew where in hopes of tracking down the remaining Horcruxes, probably risking her life in the process.

There was also the Malfoy family’s affiliation with Voldemort to consider, but Hermione suspected that for them being Death Eaters was all about self-preservation rather than die-hard belief. If the family really were as ardent in their support of Voldemort as they had asserted for all these years there was no way they would ever allow a Muggle-born to taint their line, even if it was already imperfect.

Hermione remembered that someone had once told her that once you became a Death Eater there was no turning back; Sirius’ younger brother Regulus had discovered that and had paid for it with his life. With people so close to them already under the Dark wizard’s spell, including Narcissa’s own sister, it made sense that the family pretended to hold the same racist beliefs as their forebears in order to survive.

She now believed the family probably would do everything they could to ensure both her and her parents’ survival if Voldemort’s reign became permanent, but she wasn’t sure it would be enough to save her. The only guaranteed way would be to ensure Harry won. Perhaps she could persuade Draco that this was the only option that would give them a future together. She could worry about what that future would be like if and when it happened, assuming she didn’t die in the meantime.

Hermione jumped when she felt Draco’s hand on her shoulder. She had been so far into her own little world she had forgotten he was there.

‘Are you ready, my love?’ Draco asked solicitously.

Hermione turned to look at him, smiling. ‘I’m ready. Let’s go and stop your parents from worrying.’

Draco took her hand and led her out of the bedroom and across the sitting room towards the door to where the party was taking place. Just before they went through Hermione touched his arm, asking him to stop for a moment.

‘What happens to the Malfoy girls?’ she asked, already sure she knew the answer but wanting to check anyway.

Draco shrugged. ‘There haven’t been any for the last six generations, but if there were they would be betrothed to other pure-blood families in exactly the same way the girls are betrothed to ours.

Hermione considered the response for a few seconds. ‘This is isn’t going to happen to our children, Draco. That tradition stops now,’ she warned.

Draco smiled, knowing Hermione was finally on the way to accepting their marriage.

‘Anything you say, my love,’ he assured her smoothly.

‘I mean it,’ Hermione insisted. ‘I want our children to grow up knowing that they can choose to do whatever they want, with whomever they want; that there isn’t some old tradition forcing them into roles they might not want to accept. You’re going to have to make sure your family understand that because I’m not willing to compromise on this.’

Draco pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her.

‘Our children will do whatever they want to do, Hermione. I promise you that.’

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck in return. ‘Thank you for agreeing, Draco.’

This time she kissed him.

‘Come on then. Let’s go and see your parents and get this over and done with,’ Hermione said once the kiss was over.

Draco beamed at her. ‘They are really looking forward to accepting you into the family. It’s wonderful that you’re finally going to be one of us.’

‘We’ve still got a lot to talk about so it’s not a done deal just yet,’ Hermione warned him.

‘It will be, though, especially after I get you back into bed.’ Draco grinned and gave her a cheeky wink.

Hermione shook her head at him, but she was smiling too. It was all going to be okay. After all, Draco _was_ extremely handsome and rich, and he definitely knew what he was doing in bed.

She took a deep breath as Draco led her out of the room and into the party where everyone, including her new family, was waiting for them.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So this story was actually based on two partial plots from Criminal Minds – one in which Romanian gypsies abducted young girls as wives for their ten-year-old sons and one where a crazy lady paralysed a group of girls to turn them into dolls that she could dress up etc. Obviously, I made it more romantic and less murder and mayhem – at least Hermione’s parents survived, unlike the ones on TV.


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